Complicated

There is something about this evening that is uncanny.

I learnt that word in a Prac Crit class - see what Cambridge does to you!

Uncanny. Freudian. Homely - not. Definitely not.

I've smoked a cigarette, with coffee. Attempting to be and enact the stereotype that everyone loves but it's not that great, really. 

And now I cannot work. There's a burden in my chest and it makes me thing of home.

Unheimlich. 

Freud's thesis: unheimlich, the uncanny = revelation of what is private and concealed, of what is hidden.

I do not feel a revelation coming on. I feel degradation. Asphyxiation. 

And what is up with all these theories that are named bizarrely opposite to what they want to convey. 

Why can't we all write simple essays, have simple ideas, that are nonetheless intelligent?

Why should it always be that words that sound complicated are given so much gravitas and that plain, straight forward theses are rejected?

Obsession with the complex. That's my complex.